


Consentacles

by plsnskanks (orphan_account)



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Other, Tentacle Monsters, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 03:38:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11500989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/plsnskanks
Summary: Tom runs across Tords "project" in the lab





	Consentacles

He does think it’s that much to ask that Tord helps him once a month or so. But here he is, out of sorts standing outside of Tord’s bedroom, full ready to grovel at his feet for a lay. Not that he would admit that.

He knocks once. Twice. Three times. Shouts “I know you can smell me asshole,” in an embarrassingly cracked voice. Then he stills and waits. And waits. In silence.   
Almost.

He hears soft noises coming from down the hall and when he follows them he is lead to Edd’s door. Great. So Edd has someone over, probably the neighbor asshole, Tord vanished into thin air, and Matt is out doing who knows what.

Fuck.

Well, if he is going to do it solo, he is going to steal one of Tord’s hoodies to help with it. It’s not like he hasn’t found his own clothing in the wash more times than he remembers putting them there.

He tries Tord’s door and is moderately surprised to find it open, usually the prick locks it, probably because common sense dictates that’s a good idea in a household full of filthy amoral assholes and Tom.

He opens the door and yet another surprise awaits him as he sees that Tord’s lab is open. Okay, things just went from odd to x-files level weird. It would not surprise Tom if he stumbled across a dead body in the next room.

Well he’d be impressed Tord was personable enough to get someone to come home with him but….

Tom’s thoughts are derailed as he sees some kind of weird liquid on the floor and what he thinks may be a very large potted plant. Except plants don’t growl. Or vibrate. Or whatever this thing is doing. As Tom get’s closer the noise gets louder and maybe he shouldn’t but he really wants to know what on earth is in the pot.

And around his ankle.

Tom looks down to see a tentacle sliding up his pant leg. Immediately he kicks it away and lets out what is definitely a very deep and sonorous screech. Before it hits him. What Tord has created.

Tom is going to find his Christmas stash of gasoline and burn Tord’s entire hentai collection, his computer, and any sort of memory device he can find. Anything to stop Tord from being himself for five minutes.

Tom finds another one of those things working his way up the other pantleg and he kicks it off and growls at the plant.

“Knock it off.”

To his surprise, the appendage slides down his leg and backs away meekly. He hates, hates, hates the part of him very deep down that wants to admit it’s cute.

Tom is suddenly very much aware of his own issues again as he feels a wave of nausea hit him and his stomach cramp up. He shuffles over to the pot, despite it probably being the worst option at the moment, and leans against it heavily. 

He closes his eyes and breaths harshly, trying to get a grip on the level of pain and discomfort he is experiencing so he can move himself out of the lab and to his room. He nearly leaps out of his skin when he feels something wet and slimy touch his hand.

Tom cracks an eye to see the tentacle thing tentatively sliding in between his fingers and if he wasn’t sure this thing was waiting for some sort of signal to slide into every available orifice and rail him until he was an incoherent babbling mess on the linoleum floor, tentacles writhing in and out of him at a break neck pace and absolutely nothing about this train of thought is okay.

Tom wheezes and puts his head down on the side of the pot and just sulks in his self-loathing for a moment. Then he gives the tentacles another long look.

“Okay, whatever, do your worst,” Tom murmurs half-heartedly.

Tom braces himself for some sort of barrage of mucus textured noodles to hit him up the fun holes, but nope, nothing. He looks down at the mass of writhing tentacles, but they seem to shrink away a little as he appears.

Tom tentatively touches a finger out to it to find one tiny tentacle extended back in kind. It’s probably no bigger than his pinky in girth.

“Okay yes good, now if I can get a tentacle that isn’t comparable to Tord’s size, and could touch somewhere a little lower,” Tom says, conversationally, looking at the mass expectantly. Nothing, the little tentacle wraps itself around Tom’s finger and Tom feels the ooze rub off on his skin as the tentacle slinks around. 

“Do I have to draw a diagram? Wait, I am sure Edd gave Tord some kind of poster or something last Chrismas,” Tom murmurs to himself. He doesn’t notice the much thicker tentacle that slips out until he realizes it has secured itself around his waist. Even a light squeeze sends a wave of discomfort through Tom and he finds himself groaning involuntarily.

The tentacle immediately releases him and shrinks back. 

“No, no, no we were almost getting somewhere,” Tom moans, and fuck it, he’s taking his pants off and showing this thing some hands on sex education if that’s what it takes for him to not have to deal with this alone right now. Tom kicks off his pants and then pulls off his shirt and hoodie then bends over.

“Alright Lovecraft, do your worst.”

The worst comes. And it’s a tiny tentacle poking itself against one of Tom’s cheeks. It slides around on the hump of his ass for a solid five minutes, doing little donuts, delving into the crack. 

It feels like an earthworm is trying to have intercourse with him and now Tom is both physically and psychologically uncomfortable.

“Fuck, what is it you want? Open sesame, fuck me, do me up the glory hole. I consent, yes means yes,” Tom prattles on and he is about to continue until he gets bored when suddenly about five different tentacles of a larger size are on him and he finds himself being pushed forward onto some kind of work table.

Tom momentarily wonders about all these sensitive looking papers and how pissed Tord is going to be when he sees what happened on them, but then there are two tentacles wrapping around his legs and forcing them apart, and another two finding their way into either of his two south bound holes.

He drops to his elbows as the first one makes it in after a couple misguided thrusts, it’s in his pussy and it feels warm and weird but it’s going in deep and rubbing the right places so Tom really can’t complain.

Until the other one manages to get a bit of a grip on making it into his ass. And that one is quite a bit larger than the one it Tom’s cunt. It makes some headway into his pucker, aided by other slimmer tentacles going in to work him loose.

One finds his sensitive spot and Tom jerks, bucking his hips. He feels a positively massive tentacle, probably the size of his calve, come around his waist and he is locked in an iron grip as he feels himself being massaged from the inside out.

The tentacle in his ass is working its way deeper and the one in his cunt is doing some weird sort of pulsing motion that is doing odd things for him. Tom lets himself go with the flow, feeling more tentacles crawl all over his body, soaking him in whatever this weird gelatinous goop was. 

Tom was going to have to take a shower and use steel wool as a loofa to make himself feel like a clean decent human being. But for now, he was enjoying being a pretty indecent human being as he finally just let himself slump down on the table completely as the largest tentacle in him seemed to slip even deeper.

He thinks he is going to lose it when a tentacle wraps itself around his dick and starts to move there too. That’s pretty much it for Tom’s self-respect. He opens his mouth and the most ungodly noises are coming out of his mouth.

He thinks he hears some sort of noise in the background but is quickly distracted as he finds a very thin tentacle trying to work it’s way into his nose. Tom snorts.

“No not fuckhole,” he manages to get out and the little tentacle backs off. Only for Tom to feel it in his ear a moment later. He feels for the little guy, he does, its kind of pathetic and just looking for a good time, but it doesn’t stop him from trying to rub his ear on his shoulder and admonishing the stray tentacle again.

He’d rather not get an ear infection, no thank you.

Tom distantly wonders if hentai monsters can transmit STD’s. He’s sure Tord’s dinky comics don’t cover that, don’t answer any of the hard hitting questions.

Something is hard hitting him straight up the pooper. Tom moans again and alright, that one tentacle in the back is really doing its job well, keeping a consistent pace and making Tom feel like he is going to be done for any minute now.

Every time it undulates he has to brace himself on the table and it makes him arch his back a little to take it deeper. He could cry at how good it feels after all that time he spent alone in his room debating whether Tord was worth the self-loathing.

Tom didn’t even need him. That thought is almost as satisfying as the tentacles.

When Tom cums he cums hard and he isn’t really paying attention to where it lands. He looks down to see the desk has some sort of plan for a toy robot or some shit. Well Tom just came across some sort of plan for a projectile defense system or some shit.

Whatever, like that’s important.

As he relaxes against the desk the tentacles pull out. Tom just kind of lays there for a while, trying to get his grips on the situation. After a bit, he hoists himself up and off the desk, picks up his discarded clothes, and wobbles out of the room, casting one backwards glace at the now dormant and innocuous looking pot. 

He notices the big link of masking tape with the name “CHERISE” put on it in big bold letters. Tom rolled his eyes. Tord had this weird and creepy sentimental streak and Tom is almost definitely sure that the plant is named after some ex-girlfriend or dead grandparent or something.

Tom doesn’t even want to know what else Tord calls “Tom” aside from himself. 

As he walks out of the lab he is moderately surprised to see Tord passed out on his own bed. He looks like a mess, sex tussled and marks all over his body. Tom pulls out his phone and snaps a quick pic, texting it to Edd with the single phrase “wtf?”.

He gets a very smug looking selfie of Edd back. Tom is too out of it to understand what Edd is trying to imply with that pic. He shrugs and trudges out of the room and into his own, where he passes out on the bed despite feeling like a snail with all the goop leaking off of him.

He ignores it like he ignores the deep seated issues he has with his parents and drifts off into a dead sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> say hello over @ plsnskanks.tumblr.com


End file.
